by Lauren Runow
Tucker grins as he winks at Anna, acknowledging that she just stated the truth.
“Are you saying I got your rock star in a bar vibe all wrong?” I ask.
He sits up straighter. “Looks like you made a bad assumption.”
I turn to face him more. “You’re the one who went all cocky on me and said you were in the hottest band around.”
“Nope. Anna said that. But she wasn’t lying.” His lips barely turn up in a grin.
“Then, you’re not hot shit, laying claim on fresh meat?” I bite the inside of my lip to hide my grin. Now that I know he’s really not trying to pick me up, I want to bring back the jabs we were giving each other because if I’m being honest, this is the first conversation I’ve had in a while that has made me feel like me.
“I’m glad you think I’m hot.” He takes a sip of his beer, keeping his sight on me.
I roll my eyes and laugh, feeling my cheeks redden.
He nudges me with his shoulder. “I’m just playin’. What else do you think of me?”
I take a moment to check him out more. His shirt looks custom fit with the way it’s snug in just the right places, showing off his chest and his lean yet muscular arms. His jeans are ripped slightly, and the cowboy boots he’s wearing are definitely worn on a daily basis and not here for show. He doesn’t come off like a guy trying to pick someone up. Honestly, he comes off as a super-laid-back kinda guy.
“So, I take it you’re still following your dream of being a rock star, hoping for your big break one day. You’re probably divorced because she couldn’t handle you constantly being on the road, and you also have kids in multiple cities all over Montana.”
“I’ll give you one point for your little guess of who I am, but only because two of those facts are half-right.”
I lean my elbows on the table. “Yeah? Which ones?”
He holds up his hand to count. “I’m divorced but not because of my music or being on the road.” He lifts the next finger. “I have one kid who lives here in Mason Creek and will be a senior in high school next year.” He meets my body language by placing his elbows on the table with his three fingers outstretched. “And just so you know, I’m not chasing. I’m living. I like performing here and have no aspirations of doing more. To me, it’s a fun hobby that I happen to get paid for—with every penny going to my son. He’s a smart kid with goals for college. My music is going to get him there.”
Color me surprised.
I keep my eyes locked with his, and he doesn’t budge. After a few seconds, I lift my beer and wait for him to clink bottlenecks with me. “It’s nice to meet you, Tucker. The real you,” I say as my way of waving the white flag.
Though I enjoyed our little game, he won it with his honesty.
While this game is over, something tells me there are more to come.
The night flies by as we tell old stories from when we were in high school.
“So, there we were, hiding in the bushes with two cases of beer because this one over here”—she thumbs in my direction—“started talking to Tim instead of keeping an eye out for the sheriff.” Leni picks up a nut from the bowl on the table, throwing it at me as all of us wipe our eyes from laughing so hard.
“Did you get caught?” Tucker asks me.
“No,” I say, catching my breath from laughing. “I finally remembered what I was supposed to be doing and had Tim go with me to distract the sheriff. He was a football star and got the sheriff talking about the team, so these two could sneak out and run away.”
“Do you know how hard it is to run with a case of beer?” Laken says, still giggling.
“See, I was still able to get you guys out of the situation.” I sternly nod my head. “You’re welcome.” I sit up straighter, trying to prove my point.
“A situation we wouldn’t have been in if you had done what you were told instead of getting all starry-eyed over the high school quarterback.”
I grin from ear to ear. “Come on. You remember how cute he was! You both would have done the same thing.”
“Yeah, and now, we get to see him every time we have a toothache. He’s the local dentist now,” Leni says.
“Shut up!” I slap my hand on the table in surprise. I haven’t thought about him in years. I guess he was pretty smart back in the day.
“Yep, now, you get to open your mouth wide to him for the right reasons,” Leni says, moving away from me so I don’t hit her for teasing me.
“Is there more to that innuendo?” Tucker asks with a sly look to his eyes.
I glare at all of them and point my finger. “Don’t say a word.”
They all laugh as Tucker lifts his beer to his mouth, saying, “Good to know,” under his breath before taking a drink.
I drop my head into my palm, still not living down being caught in his car, giving him head, by the same sheriff later that night. Not my finest moment.
“Okay, let’s not embarrass me any more than we already have. Next topic.” I turn to Tucker. “What about you? Did you grow up here? How come I don’t remember you?”
“Nah. I didn’t move here until a few years after high school.”
I try to hide my grin when I ask, “Do I want to know what year?”
He playfully narrows his eyes. “Let’s just say, it was in the ’90s.”
“Like, when I was born in the early ’90s or when I was older?” I bite the inside of my lip, tilting my head, pretending to be fully interested but just joking with him.
“You were fully out of diapers and on your way to school. How old are you anyway?”
“I’m twenty-nine. And you?”
“Once you’re past, like, twenty-five, isn’t it all the same?” Laken asks before he gets a chance to answer.
Tucker points his bottle at Laken. “Ain’t that the truth?”
“Okay, so your age is an enigma. What do you do for a living? When you’re not making panties melt while performing onstage, that is,” I ask, putting the attention back on him.
“I’m a mechanic at Bumps and Dents Body Shop. Been there since I moved here.”
“So, you’re good with your hands?”
He smirks. “More than you’ll ever know.”
“Oh jeez.” I laugh as I jokingly roll my eyes and turn away.
He holds his arms out to the sides. “Come on. You know I had to go there.”
“And why is that?”
“Because it’s the truth. I play guitar and fix cars.” He tries to play it off, like his words didn’t hold a hidden meaning.
I tilt my head, placing my hand on my hip. “Cocky much?”
“Nah, I’m just messing with you.” He grins and then looks down at his watch. His brows rise, as if he’s shocked by the time. Rubbing his hands up and down his thighs, he leans back and addresses the table, “Well, it’s been fun hanging with you all, but I’ve got to get going.”
The girls pout as he slides off the stool and points at Anna. “Tell Beau if I’m slow tomorrow, it’s your fault.”
She pats him on the arm as he walks past her. “Night, Tucker. It was good, hanging out with you.”
“This was fun,” Laken adds. “Don’t be a stranger when you’re not onstage.”
“I’ll try.” He nods at them and then looks my way. Those green eyes smile a little as he speaks, “Nice to meet you, Justine.”
“Nice to meet you too.”
For the first time in a while, I feel like I’m not lying to myself or the people around me.
It really was surprisingly good to meet him.
Chapter Two
Justine
I open my eyes and let out a stretch, taking in the morning sun casting rays through the window and hitting me in the face.
It takes me a moment to figure out where I am. I’ve been going through this every day since I moved back home. When you live somewhere for almost ten years and then end up in your childhood bedroom, it’s a little bit of a head-trip, especially when your head isn’t right already.
I roll over, so I’m on my back with my arm covering my eyes. After I inhale a deep breath, I hop out of bed, slide my feet into my slippers, and head to the kitchen to see if I can find some coffee.
“Look who finally woke up,” Mom says with a smile. She’s wearing a floral apron and holding a spatula in her hand as she stands at the stove.
Living with my parents is still taking some getting used to, but waking up to breakfast being cooked will not be one of those things. In New York, I would dream about someone else cooking me breakfast after a night out, so this is definitely a perk.
“Morning, Mom. Whatcha cooking?” I reach for a mug from one of the hooks hanging below the cabinet and pour some coffee that’s already made.
“Bacon, hash browns, and eggs. You still like yours over medium, right?”
I lean back on the counter as I blow on the hot liquid in my mug before taking a sip and then setting it down. “Sure do. You’re going to make it really hard to leave here, you know?” I tease.
She smiles sweetly. “Well, you know you can stay as long as you need. We’re just happy to have you safe at home.”
Her words hit hard.
Safe at home. I always thought I was safe when I was home in New York. Until I wasn’t. The thought cuts like a knife, and I close my eyes to calm myself before a full-blown panic attack hits me again. I run my now-sweaty hand through the ring of my mug and pick it up, hoping my mom doesn’t see that I was affected by those three little words.
Mom rubs her hand on my arm, and I inhale a shaky breath when our eyes meet. “It’s okay. Don’t be ashamed to get upset. The fear will pass, but it’ll take time.”
“What if it happens—”
“Nothing like that will happen in Mason Creek. I promise you.”
I nod, knowing she’s right. This town might drive me crazy with how everyone knows everyone, but if there’s one thing it absolutely is, it’s safe.
I didn’t even know our front door had a lock on it until I was in high school. It was just something I never thought about. To me, it was a door that was always open, welcoming everyone who wanted to walk through it.
Moving to New York was definitely a change when it came to that. My first apartment had three separate locks—the one on the doorknob, a dead bolt, and a chain. I should have known there was a reason for the security. I got complacent, and it nearly cost me my life.
I shake my head, ridding the thought and coming back to the now so I can forget that part of my life. It’s in the past, and now, I have to figure out what my future is.
“How were the girls last night?” Mom asks as she turns around and cracks an egg onto a hot skillet.
“We had a great time. It was really good to see everyone.”
“Yeah? Were any of your other friends there?”
I shrug. “Laken and Leni, like I mentioned. Anna was there too. I can’t believe she and Leni stayed out as long as they did, knowing they had to get up with little ones this morning. They were real troopers.”
“That’s nice. I’m glad you all got to go out together. Legally.”
She stares at me with her eyes open wide, and I laugh out loud. Of course she knows of the times I tried to sneak out when I was younger since she was always the one who caught me on the way in.
“Did you run into anyone else from high school?”
“Actually, I met someone that you’ll get a kick out of.” I take a seat at the breakfast bar and move the newspaper out of the way.
“Who’s that?”
“Tucker Simms.”
She turns with a huge smile on her face. “Tucker was there last night? Was he performing? How did I not know that?”
I shake my head. “No, he wasn’t performing. He works with Beau, Anna’s husband, so he came over and said hello. We hung out for a bit.”
“Interesting. I’ve never seen him just hanging out. But I guess I don’t go there much anymore.”
I flip open the newspaper, smiling at how small it is compared to The New York Times while I think about her words, knowing Anna said the same thing about him.
As she sets a plate in front of me, she says, “What’s the plan for today?”
“Kylie, my friend I told you about from New York, is sending my mail here. I figured I’d head to the post office to get a temporary change of address. I hate doing that kind of stuff online, and the New York post office was way too busy. Do you mind if I borrow your car?”
“Of course. Your dad will be at work all day, and I have no plans, so go right ahead.” She walks around the counter with her own plate. “You know, maybe we should go look at cars for you today. If you end up staying, you’ll need one.”
I chuckle under my breath. She’s so right. I haven’t had a car since I moved to New York. I didn’t need one there, but here, besides borrowing my mom’s car, the only way to get around is to hitch a ride from someone you know or ride a bike because public transportation is nonexistent.
The question is, how long will I be here? When I consider going back, I still get sweaty palms, and my stomach turns as flashbacks of that night rock my soul.
But when I think about staying here, all I can wonder is, For what? My life is in New York. My job is in New York. They are letting me work remotely now, but for how long?
As I look at my food, I’m suddenly not hungry.
My mom comes over and rubs my back. “Come on. You have to get some food in you. I didn’t mean to bring anything up. There’s no hurry to make any decisions.”
I smile and lift my fork, forcing myself to take the first bite, which is always the hardest.
Driving back from the post office, I’m flipping through the stations on the radio. I forgot how much country music is played on these stations. I’m about to turn on the Spotify playlist from my phone when I hear a loud pop.
“Shit!” I call out to no one as the car starts to vibrate and there’s a loud thud, thud rattle coming from outside my car.
It takes me a second to realize I have a flat tire, so I pull to the right as fast as I can and park on the side of the road.
My heart is beating like a machine gun. Makes sense since that popping sound reminded me of actual gunfire.
I run my hand over my forehead and down to my chest, catching my breath. My hand is still a little shaky as I lift my phone and call my mom to explain to her what happened. Not sure how she can help me since I’m in her car, but I’m not sure what else to do.
“Oh, sweetie. I hope that didn’t scare you too much. Don’t worry; let me call for a tow truck. Where are you?”
I look out the window and rub my fingers over my cheek. “I’m on East Old Bridge Road. Right past the market.”
“Just stay put, and someone will be there to help you.”
We hang up, and I hop out of the car to inspect the damage. The tire is as flat as a pancake. Using my hand to block the sunlight from my eyes, I look up and down the road. It’s barren and eerily quiet.
It’s a short walk to the market, so I decide to head that way to grab a drink instead of waiting like a damsel in distress. Plus, it’s a nice day out, and I don’t mind as I could use a bit of fresh air right now.
At the market, I grab an iced tea and am checking out when I see the tow truck passing by. I pay quickly and head back out into the sunshine. I jog to catch up to the truck that’s now parked in front of my car.
“Hey, thank you so much for coming so fast,” I say, waving to the driver who is opening the door to the cab.
My jog comes to a stop when I recognize the man stepping out of the truck with a clipboard in his hand and a devilish grin on his face, which I’ve been thinking about today.
What are the odds that Tucker Simms is the man coming to my rescue?
“Justine?” he asks, looking at me like I’m a mirage and then glancing down to his paperwork. “You’re Kathy and Milt Samson’s daughter?”
“That’s me. I forgot you said you worked at Bumps and Dents.”
&
nbsp; “Yep.” He points to my mom’s car. “You’re lucky you didn’t dent the rim with that flat. Were you riding it for a long time?”
“Not too long. Can you fix it?”
“Should be easy enough.” He walks to the trunk. “Open this thing up. Let’s get the spare out.”
I hit the button as I walk toward him. He pulls the cover off the hidden tire and yanks it out. I’m not going to lie; the way his arms tense and his veins pop as he lifts the tire definitely catches my attention.
Even when he places it on the ground and rolls it to the back, his arms continue to hold my thoughts. I don’t know why I’ve always found a man’s arms sexy when they show a strength to them, proving that they work for a living and aren’t afraid to get dirty.
As he searches around the trunk, I lean in, curious about what has his attention. “Are you missing something?”
He stands up straight. “These wheels require a lock before you can get the lug nuts off. I don’t see it in here.”
“Um, I have no idea what that means.” I laugh, feeling a little dumb that he’s seemingly speaking a foreign language to me when it comes to cars.
He grins, as if he’s trying to comfort me, like it’s okay for me to not know what he’s saying.
“Basically, that means I can’t change the tire.” He walks to where he laid the tire and puts it back in the trunk. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t I hook the car up to the tow truck and get it to the shop? That way, I can get a lock we have there and put a real tire on for you guys instead of dealing with that spare.”
“Okay. So, should I just call someone to get me?” I hold up my phone, shaking it in question.
“Nah, hop in the truck. You can keep me company.” He leans into me. “Also, I know your dad is at work, and with this being your mom’s car, who are you going to call?”
I laugh, remembering how I wondered the same thing when I first got the flat.
I pause and question for a second if I should hop in the truck with this man, and then I remember I’m in Mason Creek. I can guarantee five people have already passed by and saw me sitting here, talking to him. Besides, if there were anyone bad in this town, he would not be welcome. Period. And I know this guy is more than welcome; he’s loved by many because of his music.
